Necrophilia
by Gwen Cooper Williams
Summary: Gwen can't handle thinking about the events of 2x11 and falls back into an old habit, going over to see Owen. Gwen/Owen. Warning: Necrophilia


The downstairs buzzer went off well past midnight, and Owen went to the door, muttering about how even if he couldn't sleep, Jack should still respect the hours of rest. He pressed the two-way button on the buzzer, "Jack, what do you want? Go away."

"It's me, Gwen. Can I come up?"

_Bloody hell, what does the woman want?_ "Fine." 

Gwen barely had stepped into Owen's flat when she grabbed him around his neck and kissed him. It was an odd sensation for him. He knew he should be feeling _something_, but he couldn't even feel the pressure of her lips on his, or her tongue running along the inside of his mouth. Still though, a kiss was a kiss, and Owen decided to do the best he could in kissing her back, using his memories of kissing her in the past to help guide him. 

His arms encircled her waist out of habit more than anything, and his fingers managed to work their way underneath Gwen's shirt and he slowly traced circles on her back. Gwen moaned against his lips. He should be able to feel the vibrations of the sound through their connected lips, but he doesn't. There's nothing. But he continues to kiss her, hoping beyond all hope that he would be able to feel. He still had emotions, and he knew what he wanted to do, but he also knew it was impossible. However, it would be fun to try, and Gwen seemed to be quite willing. 

Gwen allowed him to gently tug her jacket off her shoulders, and she moved her hands to his waist, sliding them under his t-shirt and running them along his cool skin. She leaned against him and toed off her shoes, flinging them in either direction. She kissed him again, and lifted his shirt up and over his head. 

She stopped. She honestly hadn't seen the gunshot wound up close before. The ugly, purple bruising of the wound never fading, never healing. She bent down and gently kissed around the opening. She knew he couldn't feel it, but he could see that she was kissing him, and he'd know she cared. 

"Gwen? What do you want?" Owen asked, breaking the silence. He ran his hands through her hair, wishing he could feel the silky textures as it ran through his fingers. "As much as I'm enjoying this, I can't do anything."

"Owen, I couldn't handle it. All those people, separated from their families forever? And Jack was involved with it? And then I went home, and Rhys, Rhys wants to talk about babies. I can't talk about babies, Owen. I can't bring a child into this world! And I want…I wanted to be with you. I don't care if you can't shag or can't feel it when I touch you, I just wanted, no, needed to be with you tonight." Her last words came out as a sob as she collapsed against Owen. 

"Come on, let's get you in bed." Owen started tugging her towards his bedroom, loosening his belt and allowing his pants to fall to the floor as he entered his room. Gwen was way ahead of him and had discarded her shirt and pants in the hallway and now stood before him in a pale pink bra and plain cotton underwear. He smiled, remembering a past conversation they had had when she had told him there was no way she was wearing uncomfortable, flimsy underwear in their line of work. 

Gwen stepped over to the bed and wrapped her arms around Owen from behind. His back felt cool against the warm skin of her chest, and she longed to be able to share some of her warmth with him. Owen pulled back the covers of the bed for her to get in, and kissed her on the forehead murmuring, "I'll be right back."

He walked into his bathroom, suddenly glad that after his initial rampage of throwing everything out he had decided to stock minimal items, just in case anyone else needed them. He grabbed a large plaster out of the first aid kit and carefully covered over the bullet hole, but not before he examined it in the mirror. No change from last time. Not even any decaying skin. 

He paused in the doorway to his bedroom and had to stifle his laughter. Gwen had removed her bra and had flung it with decent aim so it was hanging off the doorknob. She was snuggled under the blankets, eyes half-closed. He slid into bed besides her and allowed her to wrap herself around him. Their bodies were pressed together, shoulder-to-shoulder, torso-to-torso, leg-to-leg, and her cotton panties rubbed against his boxers. Any man ought to be aroused by the feelings, but not him. 

Experimentally, he started lightly thrusting his hips against Gwen. Gwen moaned and writhed against him, her eyes popping open to stare into his eyes. Owen knew if he looked, he'd be able to see a damp spot beginning to form on her panties. He shifted his hips around and glanced down. Nope, not even a twinge. 

Gwen seemed to be enjoying herself though, and Owen had always loved giving pleasure, so he continued to move against her and he pulled her across his body so she was straddling him. She sat up and gave him a questioning look. She didn't know what he was doing, but it felt good. He responded by sitting up and lightly kissing her. "Just enjoy yourself," he whispered in her ear. He kissed down her neck and across her shoulders and Gwen gasped when he took one of her nipples into his mouth. 

She tried to control herself as he began to roll her other nipple between his fingers. She wanted to ask him what he was doing, wanted to ask him if this was okay, but she soon lost herself in the sensations and all she could do was moan his name and thrust against him. Owen continued sucking and twisting her nipples and ran his other hand down her back to cup against her backside, pushing her into him.

Surprisingly, this was all Gwen needed to push her over the edge and she came against him with a cry. With a muffled sob, Gwen climbed off of Owen and removed her now soaked underwear. Gwen turned her back to Owen and cried into the pillow. 

Owen didn't know what to do. He thought she had wanted to have sex with him, so he gave her the next best thing. He glanced down at his boxers and noticed Gwen had managed to soak through his underwear, too. He tugged them off before rolling onto his side and pulling Gwen close to him, praying to feel even just a little bit of warmth off of her. 

Nothing. There was nothing. No warm back being pressed into his chest, no flat stomach under his fingers. It was stupid to think he might suddenly be able to feel, but stranger things had happened. After all, he had come back from the dead and that's just not normal. 

Gwen continued to sob into the pillow, but she had allowed him to pull her towards him. She shivered a little at the contact of his cold body against her back, but soon relaxed into his embrace. 

"Gwen? What's wrong? I thought…well, I thought you wanted that."

Gwen rolled over to look at Owen, "I did. But it hurts me that I can't give you the same in return."

"It's alright. Besides, there's nothing wrong with my eyes, and you are gorgeous," he said as he ran his hands over her body, imagining how it used to feel. "I can touch you, here," he ran a hand over her smooth stomach, "and I can remember what it felt like. It's worth it just to watch your face when you come." Gwen blushed and tilted her head to kiss him.

"Can I stay?"

"Yeah. Stay as long as you want. I'll be here. Always."


End file.
